A New Beginning
by oopspro
Summary: A new beginning and perhaps a new start. Deep in the shadows of Paris waits a man. Who is he? Why does he stare so intensely at a red door? What drives his search for a mysterious and deadly organization?


A NEW BEGINNING

(Author notes: I don't know how well this will work on but I like this idea and I think that it makes for a pretty good story. I hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed coming up with it.)

He stood silently in the shadows of 'Le Rue De Nord'; hardly distinguishable from the other occupants of the alley, far too common in the lower parts of Paris. His gloved hands were stuffed deep in the pockets of his tan trench coat, cinched tightly around his thin waist. His Fedora was slanted so lowly that it caused his unruly dark hair to feather out at the sides and gave the impression that he was looking down at the broken sidewalk. Actually, his hawk sharp eyes were trained, just under the brim of his hat, on the obscenely red door of the sleazy English-style Pub and whorehouse, called 'The Red Tail', across the street.

It had been over an hour since the men that he had been following had walked inside, and he was prepared to wait all night if it came to that. They were low-level, imported, English, thugs but they were the closest thing to a lead that he had been able to find and he wasn't about to let this opportunity slip through his hands. He'd spent 2 days scouring the streets and he'd improperly used the connections that he'd built during his years on the French police force. He'd have much apologizing to do once he was done but none of that matter for now.

He knew, as well as anyone, what he was up against and the methods that they employed. He could even understand why they wanted him, although he would fight them with all his might to stop them, but when they kidnapped his niece they started a war.

His brother, Pierre, and his sister-in-law, Maria, didn't even know that he was alive, and his niece had only known by accident. They had no part in this tangled mess, but now they were all paying dearly for simply being the people he cared for most in the world. After all they had already been put through because of him he wouldn't let them endure more suffering because of him.

Caught up in his own thoughts, he almost didn't notice the pub door open; Almost. He couldn't have missed them though. The three drunk English thugs stumbled out onto the street, talking too loudly, and in the company of a group of women, far too under dressed for the autumn climate. The men were dressed in baggy pants and baggier jerseys, the uniform of choice of the street thugs all over the world (adopted from the American gangs), and the women were mostly dressed in miniskirts and similarly small tops, the chosen uniform of the street and back alley prostitutes. Together they stumbled back and forth along the sidewalk and into the street, where no traffic would dare to travel at that time of night. They sung and danced, carrying the revelry from the pub along the road.

Slowly he followed behind them, careful to stay mostly in the shadows, and edged his way towards the group until he had reached the last girl in the group. Her bleach blond hair looked as if it hadn't been washed for days and the smell that emanated from her, vomit, alcohol, body odor, and enough perfume to gag but enough to fully mask the other odors, made him glad that he wore gloves as he grasped her sweat-clammy shoulder and spun her around. He put a hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming and, reaching into his coat, pulled out badge. Then, making sure she was understanding him, he pointed to her fellows and then back down the road the way that they had come. The girl nodded her understanding, and, when he let her go, she silently grabbed her friends and headed back to the pub.

The men, in their drunken revelry, didn't even notice that their female companions had left. They continued to stumble about, speaking too loudly to each other, and singing. The voices of the men echoed in the narrow Parisian by-way and effectively drowned the sounds of his approach, and he had taken one of them out before the other two even knew that he was there.

They turned back just in time to see their comrade fall heavily to the ground. He had been the largest of the three, but more fat than muscular. Standing over him was the man in the trench coat and Fedora.

Slowly he removed his badge from the inside of his coat and said, in English with a heavy French accent, "I am an Inspector with the French secret service, and hereby place you under arrest."

A dark smile broke his unshaven face, "Please, resist."

One thug turned to the other, "Get 'm Johnny!"

The other thug laced his hands together and rushed the Inspector, ready to bring them down like a hammer, "Wanker!"

Drink made the thug, named Johnny, slower than he would have been, but the Inspector was much faster; Drink or none. He easily slipped to the thug's side and caught the man with a hard blow to the base of the skull. Disoriented, the thug toppled over his fallen comrade and the concrete finished what the Inspector had started.

While the Inspector was busy with the thug named Johnny the third thug pulled a knife from his baggy pants and rushed the Inspector. There was the sound of metal scrapping metal and the Inspector caught the thug with an elbow to the temple. The thug stumbled back onto his butt in the road.

The Inspector pulled the knife from where it hung, tangled in his clothes, and the thug saw a quick flash of metal through the tear. Then the Inspector picked him up off the ground, like a sack of potatoes, and flung him into the wall.

"Wat the 'ell is 'ou?" The thug asked, cowering against the wall.

The Inspector moved in slowly, sliding into the shadows, "I'm the French secret weapon against people like you. The boys at the lab nicknamed me 'Inspector Gadget'."

Slamming a hand into the wall next to the thug, the Inspector leaned in close, "Where is C.L.A.W. holding Penny!"

[Final thought: I had a whole rant written out to rail out against Brain and the other things about the show that didn't make sense to me as a child but as you have read the story at this point you can probably guess what they were by the changes I have made. This story is not meant in anyway to be an add-on to the Inspector Gadget universe but acts as a 'What if?' story , if you will. I enjoyed coming up with this story and the portrayal of the Inspector within it and I hope that you have enjoyed reading it just as much. I apologize for how short it is but I only meant for it to be a teaser as I might have plans to pursue this portrayal farther but if I receive enough positive feedback I might just add a story or two. Again, thank you for reading and please leave a comment to let me know what you thought. For the record, I do not own Inspector Gadget or any related characters or organizations.]


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